


Icarus

by orphan_account



Series: comfortember [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Bad Parent Jack Drake, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bruce is thought to be a bad parent, Dick Grayson is a Good Brother, Flashbacks, Gen, He's not, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jason Todd is a good brother, Please take care of yourself always, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, cancer mention, you're all going to hate me for the sheer amount of interrupted sentences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27326359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A fall.Strange how it came back to this in the end. It had started with a fall.It was only right it would end with one.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: comfortember [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995100
Comments: 25
Kudos: 270
Collections: Comfortember 2020





	Icarus

**Author's Note:**

> So this was supposed to be posted for day 11 of comfortember, not day 1 
> 
> But it’s been a real shitty day for me, i had to deal with that for the first time in a long while, and this fic is dear to my heart, so  
> I’m posting it as a fuck you to my past self? kinda. A "see, i can make it", kind of thing
> 
> It’s more whump than comfort too, so I thought it was fitting for the end of whumptober/ start of comfortember, rather than whammy you with depression between two crack fics
> 
> what I have written for day one will be posted on day 11. It's way more funny and comforting than this is, dw, this comfortember is not going to be depressing
> 
> As always, I hope you guys take care of yourself out there. If you’re struggling with thoughts of suicide. Please stay. Please seek help, I promise you are worth it.
> 
> As usual, I own nothing.  
> have fun!

A fall.

Strange how it came back to this in the end. It had started with a fall.

_When Tim had met the flying Graysons, the world had somehow brightened. From the blinding white of their son’s smile to the hypnotizing reds, greens and yellows of their costumes, everything about Haley’s circus had radiated happiness and warmth._

_Even the dark night sky had seemed to shine, slowly filling with stars and fireflies; the hot flower-scented breeze tousling Tim’s hair and sweeping it into his mesmerized eyes._

_Love had taken on an image and a scent. It had become the way John Grayson would swing his kid on his shoulder while said kid grinned and kicked his legs to break free, and shrieked in glee. It had become the way Mary Grayson could tickle her son until he giggled so hard he choked on his own spit and snorted, then swiped her cheek over his, hugging him despite the unflattering display._

_Love had become the way Dick had agreed to a backflip, then a photo and had messed up his hair while calling him Timmy before running back to his parents._

_Tim had waved him goodbye even as his mother had grabbed his arm, dragging him off with a tight, dry, grip. She’d muttered about him making them late with his childish whims._

_For the first time in his life, Tim didn’t-_

-care.

It was only right it would end with one.

It was oddly peaceful up here, watching the cars pass by. Later, he’d have to deal with responsibilities. Or maybe not. Later-

_-that night, once… Once; Tim sat up in bed, staring at the wall._

_He could not stop replaying it in his head._

_The way they had not looked like people anymore. The way Dick had screamed._

_He’d wanted to go help the other boy. He knew a little bit about being alone, after all. And about one’s world falling around them. He wondered if Dick would stop laughing out loud the way he had stopped crying out loud._

_What was the point?_

_Could you live okay without your parents? Tim missed his, sometimes, but he thought he was doing pretty good most of the time. Dead meant gone forever, but his were already gone, all the time. After all, just after their trip to the circus, they’d sat him down and told him they were going back to another country the day after. Maybe it wouldn’t be so different for Dick. Besides, he was nine. That was more than twice Tim’s age. His father had said adults weren’t like babies and didn’t need their parents to do everything for them._

_“Life goes on, Timothy,” his father had said._

_He immediately felt bad. Dick’s parents had seemed nice. He realized what he had just thought and only then did the tears begin to fall._

_He was a horrible person._

_Tim hoped Dick-_

-would be alright.

In normal circumstances, he’d worry about more people, Bruce, the Titans, his parents, Dana.

In normal circumstances, he wouldn’t even consider doing this. Not anymore. But he didn’t have all those people to worry about anymore. Even his relationship with Dick was as strained as it had ever been.

Dick was supposed to have his back.

Dick didn’t want to believe Tim. He didn’t want to even hope Bruce might be alive. It had stung at the time. But he understood now. His search had failed. He’d failed. And Dick was already under so much pressure, he didn’t need to worry about Tim, too. He wanted to kick himself. No wonder Dick had chosen Damian, Gotham, the Justice League over him. It had taken a while, too long, for him to notice-

_-anything wrong with Dick. It had taken a Gala, a Gala in the honor of a dead man, because Gotham enjoyed morbid occasions like no other city did. A gala in Judge Watkins’s honor, and broken bones, and a dead look in his eyes. It had taken Dick dodging the few questions Tim managed to stutter in his presence, not even seeming to register he was there._

_After that, Tim had done some research about bruises on the Internet._

_Results for ‘bruises always tired’ were terrifying. Dick couldn’t have cancer, he just couldn’t. Tim couldn’t make cancer better. He couldn’t help, if that was what it was._

_Tim needed for Dick to be alright._

_Thankfully, it probably wasn’t. Cancer had other symptoms that Dick clearly didn’t have. A lot of them. And he wasn’t in the most common demographic range._

_Cancer also didn’t usually spontaneously break arms, though interestingly enough, it could apparently break bones in the spine. He made a note to search for the reason why later, when he had more time on his hands and less urgent things to do._

_So what could it be?_

_What could it be that made jewelry out of bruises around the wrists and neck, made a smiling twelve years old look terrified and made Bruce Wayne look so mad._

_Tim honestly had no idea. So he tackled the problem like he had tackled every other problem in his life so far. Step by step._

_Results for ‘Bruises wrist’ were almost as terrifying, but not quite. This was something he could stop._

_It made him really sad. Mr Wayne had always been nice to him and he didn’t want to think he was doing that to Dick. But he could believe it. Adults couldn’t be relied upon. And just because they acted nice outside in front of strangers didn’t mean they cared at home._

_No matter how much-_

-he didn’t want to see it. To even think about it.

He didn’t. Who wanted to know they were alone?

Tim wanted a break. He was so, so, so tired of fighting.

“Does anyone know what’s up with the Replacement? Because this is starting to look a whole lot like he’s-”

A break.

A way-

_“-out.” Dick said incredulously. “You’re offering me a way out?”_

_Tim nodded, trying not to feel too self-conscious in front of his idol._

_“I know it’s not much. But we have plenty of room, and my parents-”_

_“I’m fine.”_

_Tim looked pointedly at his arm, the one still in a cast. He did that the way his mother did when they were in polite company and saying things was rude, but she still wanted to make her point come across._

_“Look, whatever you think Bruce is doing, this isn’t it, alright? He’s a good person. A stubborn asshole, for sure, but he wouldn’t hurt me. Or any kid.”_

_Failed._

_He couldn’t even protect his childhood hero, he was failing, failed, failed, failed, failed-_

-failed. Failed at bringing Bruce back, failed at having Dick’s back, failed to save Dana, or Kon, or Bart, or his parents. It had taken a lot to bring him down for good, he supposed. Robin couldn’t stop fighting, after all. Robin was hope.

But he wasn’t Robin anymore, someone else was hope now. It wasn’t his anymore, he didn’t need to worry about that. Red Robin was blood, hurt feelings, nothing. He was nothing. He could-

_-let go. He could, of course. Let the matter drop. Not go against the richest man in all of Gotham city, one of the richest men in all of the United States of America._

_Like hell, he would. Bruce Wayne didn’t scare him._

_He’d seen him in too many weird situations, gardening in his suit with their other neighbor, the one with the kind British accent, muddying his suits until someone remarked on it and he laughed sheepishly. If anything, he mused, Bruce Wayne was sort of awkward._

_Bruce Wayne didn’t scare him. And Bruce Wayne didn’t scare Batman either, and Batman wasn’t much fond of people hitting kids._

_So Tim had a plan. Sort of._

_Of course he felt real stupid, when he figured it out._

_When he saw the quadruple-_

-somersault coming his way. Only this time, he felt no need to hide. When he saw a flash of vibrant blue come to the rooftop he was on, blurring into almost inhuman speeds. When he felt Nightwing slam into him, roll the both of them to the middle of the roof. In his old Robin suit, his arms would have been scraped to hell and back. Here, his armor protected him well enough, except for his face. Idly, he wondered where his cowl was. He could already feel it throbbing in red-hot pain, probably well on its way to bruising.

Eh, more bruising.

Bruising, like Dick’s grip on him when he dragged the both of them in a sitting position.

“What the fuck, Tim? What the fuck were-”

_“-you thinking.”_

_“My team was in danger.”_

_“And then, what? You’re an acceptable casualty, now?”_

_“What would you have done?” Tim asked, with a calm he didn’t feel in the slightest. He hated it when he and Dick fought. A part of him was still scared he was going to leave, too, to hate Tim and leave him behind._

_Dick was speechless. Tim would have felt proud of that, had the next few words not been spoken in a hoarse voice._

_“I lo-”_

“-ve you, kid. God, I love you so much, Tim. We’ll help you. You’ll be okay. We’re going to fix this. Whatever it is, whatever’s wrong, we’ll fix it. I promise. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

Tim didn’t say a thing. Dick’s chest was heaving, like he couldn’t quite catch his breath between the burst of speed he'd put on and his babbling. But Tim let his head fall there anyway. It was almost nice.

“I’m tired,” he murmured. “I’m tired, Dick. I keep trying, then failing, and failing, and nothing ever goes right and. I just want it to stop-”

Dick shushed him. Tim almost wanted to cry, just couldn’t quite find the energy to, all bundled in his brother’s arms like he was.

“I miss Bruce,” he tried to say, but wasn’t entirely sure how it came out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Dick. I tried. I swear I tried. I swear—”

“Shhh, no, hey. It’s okay. It’s okay, Tim. We’ll bring you to him right now, yeah? We can go see Bruce.”

And, just-

_-what?_

_Tim stared at Jason, trying to understand where he was going with this._

_“Bruce trained you to be Robin.”_

_“I mean, not entirely?”_

_“Okay, we’re coming back to that later. Definitely coming back to that. Later. Did you do that one exercise where he’s listing things and you’ve gotta find the common thread?”_

_“Each list got more complicated, abstract, or sometimes we used it as profiling training, yeah, we did. Why?” Tim nodded in confirmation, interest piqued._

_Jason nodded back, serious._

_“We’re going to do exactly that. I’m going to list things. You’re going to think about them.”_

_“Okay?”_

_“Okay. Here goes. Sleep changes. Schedule changes. Isolation. Withdrawal. Giving away loved things. Irritability. Anxiety. Numbness. Abnormal behavior, such as a sudden loss of interest in previously loved activities. Saying goodbye. Talking about being a burden. Recklessness. Change to a calmer demeanor.”_

_“Easy,” Tim shrugged. “Mental health. Red flags for suicidal thoughts and/or behavior.”_

_“Right,” Jason said, looking oddly intense. “Here’s another: Two hours. Five hours. Enterprise. Titans. Patrol. Video game. Robin. Dick and Bruce. Coffee. Kon. Grappling gun. Damian.”_

_Well, that made no sense. Unless-_

_“The past two months. Me?” Tim froze. “Wait, you guys think I’m-”_

_“You aren’t.”_

_“I’m not. I’m not, I swear! I mean, I won’t try to pretend my mental health’s always the best, but I’m not. The past few months have been good. Really good.”_

_“Those are an awful lot of coincidences, Babybird.”_

_“And you don’t believe in coincidences, I know.” He sighed, rubbing tiredly at his forehead. Jason’s eyes were cold, calculating. ‘This is going to sound real stupid, but. It’s kinda the opposite, actually.”_

_“Okay, let’s go with that. Explain.”_

_“I’m trying to change some of my more.... deplorable habits to healthier ones.”_

_“So the sleep schedule? Dropping coffee?”_

_Tim shrugged._

_“Yup.”_

_“Giving away some of your games?”_

_“I saw Damian eying them. We’re. Doing better? Sort of?”_

_“And Robin?”_

_He smiled._

_“He’s earned it.”_

_“Okay. Okay. So you’re really doing good?”_

_Like something out of a bad horror movie, the window slid open with a creak. Damian slipped inside the apartment, feet landing noiselessly on the old wooden floor._

_“Drake,” he said, scowling darkly. “I have attempted to contact you several times already. I do not appreciate being ignored.”_

_Tim kept himself from smiling to himself at the show of care Damian was willingly showing him, in front of Jason. Of all people._

_The thing was. Tim had people that cared, now._

_“See, even the sprout was worried.”_

_Damian flicked his coat, drenched with rainwater, at Jason’s head._

_“The f-”_

“-uck?” Jason said. “He promised.”

“Jay.”

“Don’t you try to Jay me. I can tell when people are lying. He wasn’t.”

“Well, obviously he was,” Dick snapped. Jason scowled, but didn’t raise his voice, and Tim found himself grateful for that.

“Fine. It could be a relapse, but I don’t think so. Something’s happened.”

That memory didn’t make sense. That memory didn’t make any sense because while he and Jason had been on okay-ish terms when he’d been searching for Bruce, they had not been that okay with each other.

And he and Damian hadn’t either.

Hell, he and Dick hadn’t been.

“Hey, Tim,” That was the voice Dick used with victims. Tim hated it and was grateful for it in equal measures. He didn’t think he could take Dick yelling at him right now. “How are you doing?”

Tim was-

He was.

Tim was.

Staring out at nothing, at the ground maybe, in the nearest safehouse they’d found. Bundled up on a ratty couch.

Dick’s arm tightened around his shoulders.

“Okay. That’s fine. You don’t need to say anything.” then near hesitant, after a pause. “Bruce’s ten minutes out. I love you, Tim.” Then, when Tim didn’t answer that either, he buried his face in Tim’s hair, and muttered again. “I love you, Tim.”

But that was wrong. That wasn’t possible because Bruce was, he’d been dead.

And Tim hadn’t managed to bring him back.

“Could fear toxin-”

_“-do this?” The two-bits villain of the week said, cackling. He blew some golden powder in Tim’s face. “No. Obviously not. My concoction is far superior. Don’t worry, little Red. I’m not going to kill you.”_

_“Well,” Tim said, instead of cursing under his breath like he wanted to. Just what he needed, a Scarecrow copycat with delusions of grandeur. “_ That _part sure is new.”_

_“Oh no. No. I’m not.”_

_He leaned in, close enough that Tim could see the violet, sickening, magic sparkling in his eyes._

_“You are.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed. Please take good care of yourself


End file.
